The Dragon's Lullaby
by IzzyMorgensternXX
Summary: Season 8 fix-it fanfic for Jon and Daenerys. Westeros thought its dark days were over with the fall of the Night King and the death of Mad Queen Dany. Little did it know that the biggest threat it was yet to face was lurking within its own walls...
1. Chapter 1

Long and stiflingly hot summer days were normal in Volantis. As the southernmost of the free cities of Essos it rarely saw a cold day. Kinvara sat comfortably amongst the glowing fires of the Red Temple, the heat not bothering her one bit.

She was reminded of the dragon queen then. Queen Daenerys. She wondered what was happening in Westeros, the ravens had been slow to reach the Red Temple, however she had heard that the armies of Winterfell and the queen's dragons had managed to defeat the Night King.

Kinvara smiled to herself. They would all be safe now. Praise R'hllor.

Not that she'd had much doubt. She'd seen most of the battle in the flames anyway. She'd seen the falling snow, heard the roar of the dragons and her faith in her god had reassured her that it could only mean good things were to come and that the endless winter had been averted.

Kinvara gave the flames one last tired smile before getting up and readying herself for bed. Like all the other priests and priestesses she lived on a mostly nocturnal schedule whilst staying at the Red Temple. As one of the most high-ranking followers of the Lord of Light it was her responsibility to lead devotions every evening and to guide the others through their nightly prayers.

She had prayed for the dragon queen last night. Kinvara sincerely believed that she was the princess who was promised.

Daenerys Stormborn was the one who was promised. From the fire she was reborn to remake the world ... Daenerys had been sent to lead the people against the darkness in this war and in the great war also.

Kinvara smiled as she rested, letting herself recall the words she had spoken not so long ago to the queen's advisers.

Maybe she was biased, Kinvara thought to herself, she had good reason to be. She had good reason to want Daenerys to be the princess that was promised. Even if R'hllor hadn't sent her such clear messages- the images of a white haired woman wearing black robes, standing before the iron throne, hand outstretched towards it, a triumphant grin adorning her face…

Bias,faith, Kinvara toyed with each of those ideas, before rolling over in her bed, allowing herself to face the open door and look out across the corridor. What did it matter now? Daenerys would soon sit on the Iron Throne and as soon as Westeros was stable she would return to Essos.

Then it would be time.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't feasible for the Free Folk to hike all day, Jon thought to himself as he trudged through the knee deep snow, or at least he hoped not. It had been five days since he'd taken his leave from the wall under the guise of guiding the Wildlings back home.

He had no intention of returning. What was the point of having a night's watch when there were no white walkers or Night Kings around to torment anyone anymore? What was the point of guarding a wall that was breached and broken and likely to never need to be rebuilt again? What was the point? The white walkers and the Night King would grow to become nothing more than stories told by wet nurses and the castle yard games of children who would never know what it was like to face the possibility of an endless winter.

No, he was more useful here amongst Tormund and his people, even if he felt like doing nothing more than stopping to rest and even if he winced every time he walked.

Still, at least he had Ghost to keep him company. He hadn't left Jon's side since he left the wall. Yet, the direwolf was far from happy, his head was slumped forward, his muzzle would drag against the ground on occasion and at night he would let out the most dreadful whines. It almost reminded him of Bran's Summer… the way she, Grey Wind and Shaggy Dog whined when…

He wouldn't let himself think of that, he thought resolutely. But it was no use. He could still feel her in his arms, so light, so delicate, so trusting and innocent. He could see how her face changed as she registered his betrayal- hope turning to curiosity then confusion then tragedy. He could still imagine the red blood trickling from her nose and the corner of her mouth and staining the snow beneath her as he lay he down gently. He could still remember Drogon's yells of pain, the heat of the fire he wrought on the Iron Throne as it turned molten and ashen. Worst of all he could remember the way that Drogon gently rocked Dany with his muzzle as if she were a little child taking a nap and she would wake up at his light touch, safe and surrounded by her family in a perfect world…

Jon snapped himself out of those thoughts. No, do not think like that, he chided himself. His Dany had died with Missandei, with Rhaegal and with Jorah. The Dany who had came after that was twisted and wrong. She wasn't the woman he'd fallen in love with and still loved to that day. He still couldn't quite fathom it, how had she fallen apart so quickly? Betrayed, raped, sold like a broodmare… she had experienced all of that and not only survived but had still retained her love and compassion for mankind. It seemed unfathomable.

Jon reached out to tangle his gloved fingers in Ghost's fur, earning a heavy sigh from the direwolf. His mind was taken back to one of their first days at Winterfell.

Though they'd kept a fire burning throughout the night, the morning was still bitterly cold and they could still see their breath in the air. Though she wore heavy furs and there had been thick blankets on their bed, Daenerys had still shivered throughout most of the night. Jon had found it adorable at first- his dragon queen loved the heat, she made the servants fret themselves silly whenever she stepped into water they were sure would burn her. She even played with flames too sometimes, when she was deep in thought, she would run her fingers over the tips of them. If it were anyone else it would have been creepy but it was just Dany's way.

He had cuddled her, thinking she was just cold. Keep your queen warm, she had commanded him at the waterfall only the day before. He intended to do that. It was only when he'd reached to caress her cheek that he'd noticed the tears many of them were gathered there. She was not shivering, no, she was shaking with sobs.

"Dany," he said gently, shaking her carefully, not wanting to startle her but wanting to wake her up from the nightmare. He watched as her eyelids fluttered slightly but she was still in the realms of sleep.

He'd heard a low whine then and looked towards the foot of the bed, seeing Ghost's head resting on top of the furs. With a nod from Jon, the direwolf jumped up carefully, and made his way towards Daenerys's sleeping form. The direwolf nuzzle gently at her, earning a confused look from the woman as she gradually gained consciousness.

Daenerys blinked tiredly before sitting up and immediately, to Jon's surprise, hugging Ghost tightly, burying her face in the direwolf's fur as sobs ripped through her. Ghost remained still and gentle throughout, letting out sympathetic noises, much like he'd heard Drogon give Dany whenever he wanted to make sure she was ok prior to a flight or whenever she was thinking about Viserion…

Jon had rubbed Dany's back gently as she'd cried into Ghost's fur…

Of course Ghost missed Dany. They had bonded. In fact, in the end they'd been almost inseparable- no doubt because Dany had spent most of the feast feeding her dinner to the direwolf when she thought everyone was too drunk to notice.

Jon ruffled Ghost's fur.

He hated himself. He hated himself for causing Ghost's all of this pain. He hated himself for leaving his family behind. He hated himself for abandoning the wall and the night's watch. He hated himself for not being the King in the North that he'd promised the northern lords and Lyanna Mormont that he would be. He hated himself for being a Targaryen and for using that as an excuse to not show Daenerys the love that she deserved and, most of all:

He hated himself for not being enough to save her.

Maybe, in time, he could forgive himself of those other things. But he would never forgive himself for failing her.

His Daenerys. His Dany.


	3. Chapter 3

The light haired man knew he should be sleeping. There wouldn't be many hours left of the day and soon the rest of the priests would awaken for their evening meal. He knew he needed to sleep but he hadn't been much good at it for many years now. He always saw her in his sleep, always saw what could have been. For a while, he had kept himself busy of a night, spending the long hours devouring the library's many books. That was until, on one occasion, he had managed to sleep decently and Kinvara had found him curling up there. She hadn't been mad at him, not really, it was more friendly concern. But the next time he'd ventured down there, he'd found the door locked. At least when he'd chosen to leave the books as a young boy it had been of his own volition. It had pained him to have to leave them be.

Now, he spent most of the hours wandering the corridors, exploring every road and path. He was fortunate to have been brought here. Though he wished he could go outside and he was free to go at any time, he knew it wouldn't be safe. Anyway, he knew he had work to do here still, he could feel it in every ember of his being.

Little did he suspect that relatively inconsequential day would be the day when R'hllor would call upon him to perform the work he'd waited a little over two decades to complete.

He had been in the kitchens, looking for something light to eat, when he'd heard the unfamiliar sound. It sounded like a cross between the cry of a cat and a child screaming and pierced through the walls and through his body.

He knew instantaneously what creature that sound belonged to. Maybe it was on account of his blood that he was so familiar with that sound, maybe it was just his overactive imagination and his many years of reading that had caused him to stumble upon an accurate conclusion.

All he knew was that he was finding himself darting up the several stone steps, up towards the temple's great hall, much like a child whose father had just returned home from battle with gifts from the foreign land he had conquered. Not that his father had ever been a conquerer.

The man heard a loud thump as the creature landed close to the temple doors and he felt giddy. Could it, could it be a-?

He saw Kinvara's concerned look and he nodded to her reassuringly.

Yes, the great hall was big enough. It would even be big enough for Balerion…

The man let an exuberant smile cross his face.

He watched as the beast before him sauntered in. He was correct, it was a dragon, though the man had no idea how that was possible, given they were all meant to be extinct.

The dragon had black flecked scales and filled the majority of the room. His eyes were large and amber and fixed the man with a knowing stare.

Yes, brother, the man thought, knowing the dragon could sense every word, I am one of them. One of us. You can trust me.

He noticed then that the dragon appeared to be walking strangely, almost limping towards them. It was then that he noticed the small object held grasped in the clawed foot. He watched as the large creature placed the object down carefully on the floor, letting its talons unfurl from around it in a manner that made the man think of his own mother gently setting his brother down in his crib for a nap.

His brother…

He wondered where he was now, especially given…

The object…

It was a young woman. In her late teens, maybe early twenties at most, she had long, braided silver-blond hair and her face was pale but streaked with blood. Her eyes were closed but he knew that if they were open they'd be that same violet-blue as his own. She was so small, even smaller than his mother and it took everything in him to not immediately rush to her side…

But Kinvara was there first. Busying herself. For it was blatantly obvious that Daenerys Targaryen was no longer in the world of the living but the man knew that would only be temporary.

"You should go," Kinvara told him, "R'hllor's work is too easily disturbed by strong emotions and we cannot risk our queen. You should go speak to the servants, see that rooms are readied for her and that food and water is brought for her dragon."

The man nodded, before allowing himself one last look.

My dear Daenerys Rhaella Visenya…

My dear little sister, Rhaegar thought, what on earth have they done to you?


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa had no idea why she was being summoned back to King's Landing so soon.

It had been a little over a month since Bran's coronation and she had been sad to leave before the festivities were over, but it had been on Bran's orders. He was her King to some extent after all, even if he would always remain her little brother in her mind.

He had ordered her to go back to Winterfell, to rule there. Yes, the north was independent but they would still need a good trade deal with the rest of Westeros. The north was harsh and crops struggled to grow there at the best of times, now with a winter, albeit mild, approaching, it was imperative that they came up with a good solution.

Bran had told her to meet with the lords. He wanted her to convey that the north would always be independent but that they needed a close relationship with the rest of Westeros for all their sakes. They might well not have a King officially but, in terms of their day to day life, it would make little difference to the people of the north whether there was a king in the south or not. It never really had made a difference until King Robert Baratheon had ridden north and stolen Eddard Stark away from his true home.

Now, Sansa was riding south again. The raven had not mentioned why.

She had to assume that Bran didn't want the rest of the world knowing why either. It would make sense, if the information was something terrible and needed to be kept secret.

She remembered the last time she had been asked to keep a secret.

Honour was important, of course. Her father had been an honourable man and she had loved him dearly for it. But honour alone was naive. Sometimes you needed to break your honour so as to ensure the safety and happiness of the people you cared about the most. Her father had unfortunately shown her that too.

The past few months had reinforced that too. She didn't regret one bit her decision to betray Jon's trust. They were better off now than they would have ever been under Queen Daenerys.

Mad Queen Dany, Sansa thought. That was what they were calling her now. She'd heard the servants mutter the title as they hung out the washing, she heard the stable boys talk about the dead queen- debating the idea of how crazy a woman could be before she became unattractive. Even the children- they had started to play 'The Long Night' and 'The Burning of King's Landing' in the castle yard- at least until the maester had stopped them and told them it was inappropriate and that the Lady Sansa wouldn't want to see them playing such things.

That much was true. Sansa had toyed with how to deal with Daenerys's legacy. True, there was no way she would go down in history as an honourable woman or noble queen but should Daenerys's life and existence be eliminated from the historical records, should she disappear? Or should she instead serve as a cautionary tale?

Sansa didn't know that she could find the compassion in her yet to do the latter.

It was at times like these that she most missed her siblings.

Where was Arya? She had said that she was going west. Sansa could have really used her counsel over the past few weeks.

And as for Jon. She had heard rumours on the King's Road that he'd become a deserter. The next King Beyond the Wall! Sansa laughed to herself at the idea. He'd never wanted to be a King. If only he'd wanted that. Then it could have been all so simple.

If only he'd given in to his wolf side more and been less of the dragon. He could have used his Stark side to control Daenerys, Sansa thought, to show that queen how good and loyal royals were supposed to act, how they were supposed to respect and show kindness to their people.

Instead of burning them alive when they didn't give them the love they felt they deserved.

Sansa could feel herself seething with anger in every part of her.

She hoped Bran's secret, whatever it was that was so important, too important to be sent by raven, so important that it required her presence immediately, she hoped it had nothing to do with the Dragon Bitch.

Bran had been concerned about Drogon he'd made that clear but he'd also told her that it was under control.

Nothing to worry about, he'd told her with a wide smile.

Yet Sansa had her doubts. The dragon had been spotted flying east towards Volantis. Sansa knew Volantis had a temple to the Lord of Light.

The southern god that brought Jon back to life.

Sansa had never loved the dragons yet she had never wished harm against them until now.

Let him starve himself again, she thought venomously, that ungrateful dragon. We slaughtered so many animals for him and yet he barely touched them. He was so ungrateful, just like his queen. Let him starve and fall into the Narrow Sea so that he can never bring Mad Queen Dany.

Sansa felt fear shred its way through her.

Westeros and the north had peace now after so many years.

They didn't need Daenerys Targaryen coming back to ruin everything.


	5. Chapter 5

The wound had been so deep.

So deep that for a time she'd wondered if she would be able to perform the ritual. Every time she'd cleaned it, it had just seeped more blood. Though she wondered how. The dragon had flown the young woman across the Narrow Sea, a journey which had taken him several weeks. It would have usually taken days for a beast of his size but no doubt the folk of Westeros had been trying to hunt him. Still that delay in time wouldn't matter much to the Lord of Light. Yet, it was a wonder that the Dragon Queen hadn't bled out completely.

Kinvara had dressed Daenerys in a light blue robe. She'd known that the queen would have to come back to the east eventually and had set out provisions for her many months ago. She had hoped that they would have met under much better and happier circumstances. Kinvara had hoped to introduce her to Rhaegar. She hadn't dared introduce them before the war was over. Rhaegar had no intention of ruling now, not without his Lyanna, not with Daenerys being so much better suited to the role. Yet, as the eldest of the both of them, he would have been called on to do just that.

Kinvara and Rhaegar didn't want them to meet as rivals. They wanted them to meet as family.

But never like this.

Kinvara carefully lifted Daenerys's head so that she could undo her thick pale braids, allowing them to settle around the girl like a halo of silvery, wavy light.

Kinvara took the blade then and, speaking the first of the ritual words, placed the blade gently against a lock of the girl's hair to cut it, before gathering the strands together and placing them delicately into the fire.

She repeated the process again and again, taking the time to notice the Daenerys was much changed from the young leader of Meeren she'd heard so much during her absence from the city. Her hair was so long, a gentle pale stream that when braided reached down to her waist and when undone was even longer. Kinvara felt sad to be cutting it even though she knew she was only taking a little.

Daenerys was changed in other ways too, although Kinvara didn't feel it was appropriate to acknowledge those ways yet and especially not when there was no guarantee that the ritual would work. She had never performed the ritual under circumstances like that before and she wouldn't get her hopes up.

Kinvara took a jug of scented water and began to pour its contents over the Dragon Queen's hair until it darken to an almost golden blonde shade as it absorbed the water. She continued with the next line of the ritual words she had memorised. Then she placed her hands gently over the girl's heart and abdomen before continuing with the words.

Nothing happened at first. It didn't usually. The more stubborn and strong-willed the person being resurrected, the more effort was required. She knew bringing back Daenerys would take much strength from her but she maintained her faith repeating the words over and over again, like a meditative melody or a mantra.

Distantly she could hear the sound of the water from Dany's hair dripping onto the ground. She could even hear the sound of the dragon too, it sounded as if he was pacing and whining.

She couldn't fail her queen, Rhaegar, the dragon. She couldn't fail them.

"Come on, Daenerys," she begged, "You can't do this to them. You can't do this to him. He needs you. He can't lose anyone else, it would destroy him."

The dragon queen still remained still and pale.

"Come on," she repeated, "They need you. Your dragon needs you. We all need you."

Kinvara felt tears of desperation begin to flood her eyes but she hid them behind closed eyelids.

Footsteps sounded behind her as she felt someone wordlessly move to stand beside her, his hands covering her own, the words she'd uttered moments before being uttered in his Westerosi accent. He'd never mastered the Valyrian accent in the same way his sister had.

"Dany," she heard Rhaegar begin, "I'm right here, little sister. I know we've never met before. I er… well. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you but I'm here now. I'm right here."

Kinvara heard Rhaegar take in a deep, shaky breath before opening her tear stained eyes to see Rhaegar's eyes were flooded with tears too.

"Dany, please," Rhaegar begged as he placed his forehead against his sister's and sobbed furiously, an arm draped across the queen's still form.

Five more minutes, Kinvara told her, five more minutes and she'd steer him away. She'd seen the damage he'd wrought on himself after she'd told him about Lyanna. As cruel as it seemed, she had a responsibility as his friend to protect him in all the ways he couldn't protect himself.

She heard him utter their holy words again, desperately, as his hands trembled and tears streamed down his cheeks.

A loud gasp filled the room but only for a moment.

Daenerys sprung up quickly, her violent-blue eyes full of terror, her face even paler than in death. She stared around the room in horror, overwhelmed by her surroundings and unable to utter a word. She noticed Rhaegar, her eyes growing wider with shock and her breathing becoming faster and faster almost to the point of hyperventilating.

That was when the screaming started.

The queen let out a bone chilling scream and she clutched desperately at her head, pulling at it as if she were trying to pull a demon from it. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clawed at her hair and pressed the palms of her hands fiercely against her temples as if she was trying to pushing something out. Yet the screams continued and continued.

They were not just the shock of being woken up or reliving the last moments before death. Kinvara knew those screams yet these screams were darker than anything she'd heard before.

The darkest screams she had ever heard.

Rhaegar sprung forwards, grabbing quickly at Daenerys's hands before the girl could do herself an injury.

At first Kinvara thought she was asking him to let her go but then she listened closer.

"Jon," Daenerys said between sobs in a voice barely above a whisper, her voice contorted in pain.

"Jon Snow," she said before passing out in her brother's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Apparently, this winter was mild. Well, at least according to Tormund. Jon wasn't an authority on the matter, he'd only seen one winter and that was almost a decade ago. He had been a little boy then, no more than twelve when the winter had ended. He hadn't even been allowed to train with a real sword at that age. Ser Rodrick hadn't allowed Robb or Theon to handle a live sword until they were fifteen, however he had been allowed to fight with one at thirteen. Bastards need to age faster, Ser Rodrick had told him, the world is harder for them.

Jon smiled at the memory, despite himself. How things had changed. Not so many years ago, he'd longed for the time when he'd see his brother- cousin- again. He would take that opportunity to tell him that he'd gotten his first real sword long before him. What he'd give to see Robb and Theon's jealous looks now, to hear Arya's laughter in response. Even to hear Sansa make some proper lady-like comment about how Arya shouldn't aspire to be a warrior or a knight.

He could almost hear Arya saying seven hells and see her rolling her eyes.

Bran and Rickon would be there too. Bran would still be able to walk and he wouldn't be the three-eyed raven either. He would be able to shoot a bulls-eye with his bow and arrow and Arya would challenge him to archery duel. Rickon, he would be barely a teenager now, and he would still hold back, hand held tight to the scruff of Shaggy Dog's neck.

Father- Uncle Eddard- would be there too. Up on the wood walkways of the castle, smiling at his children and nephew and ward. Lady Catelyn would be there as well and she would smile at him for once in his life.

In Jon's vision, his father, Rhaegar Targaryen was there too. His silver-gold hair tied back, a book in one hand, a sword in the other. He would be a man of nearly forty. He would make his way towards his son with a warm smile and tell him he was proud of the man he had become. Proud that his boy had become King in the North.

And his mother, Lyanna, she would join them. Riding into the courtyard on her horse. Arya laughing at her arrival and abandoning her archery bow and arrows to run into the arms of her favourite aunt. The aunt who had joined her list of favourite Targaryen warrior women that she admired and sought to take after.

His mother would greet his father with a kiss on the cheek and then turn to him and hold him in her arms as delicately as the day that she brought him into the world.

Overhead he would hear them, the dragons. Drogon would lead them- the largest of them all, even bigger than Balerion. Then Rhaegal and Viserion would trail behind, daring each other to go faster and perform even more intricate dives and twists.

He could hear _her_ then. Telling her boys to behave themselves.

The baby dragons would follow. He could see them clearly in his vision. A white one- the colour of snow but with wings tipped with electric blue. A violet one with eyes a clear glowing amber. And the runt, who almost reminded him of Ghost- a vibrant lava red, who was as silent as his direwolf.

Ghost. The wolf jogged up to him them. The littlest dragon of the lot riding on his back.

"Rhaella," Jon began, "What have I told you about treating Ghost properly? He's not a toy."

Rhaella gave him a look that was one-third Arya, to two-parts _her,_and followed it up with one of her mother's grins as Jon pulled the tiny two year old into his arms.

"Mummy!" Rhaella yelled, pointing up at Drogon as he swept his wings wide, about to land outside of Winterfell's walls…

"Damit, Jon!" Tormund yelled, as he slammed into him with a full horn of mead, knocking Jon from his vision, "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

Jon sighed gruffly.

Ghost had betrayed him again, just like he always did when he suspected that Jon was off thinking about Daenerys.

"Drink," Tormund ordered, passing him a flask, "Gods know we all need it. This winter is going to be mild, aye, but it's going to be nasty still. Do you remember what I said last time we were north of the wall? When you had that blacksmith lad with you?"

"How could I forget," Jon said, "I think Gendry wanted to run away."

Tormund grinned, "Well, I stand by my words. You need to stop pining, Jon. What's done is done. If there was a shred of the old Daenerys left in her, she wouldn't want you to be miserable. She'd want you to find love again too. But for now…"

Jon gave Tormund an angry look, "How could you even suggest that? She was our queen! I loved her! I still love her, though I know I shouldn't. Do you really think I could just forget her so easily?"

Tormund sighed, "You need to, for a time, at least. You can't keep torturing yourself like this. I've seen men continue on down that path, they don't last very long, and where we're going we need you to last a long time. It's going to take us a while to set up a new home and we need you there for that. You may not be King of the North or King North of the Wall or whatever your people cared to call it, but the Free Folk trust you and rely on you to be their strength. Aye, they love the fact that you love as strongly as you do. But you can't let your love for Queen Daenerys distract you from your duty."

Jon nodded. _Love is the death of duty. Duty is the death of love._

Yet, he wouldn't take any wildling women. Not when it has been little more than two months since Daenerys's death. It would take years for him to mourn her properly and he would never forgive himself for failing her.

But he wouldn't let himself fail the Free Folk now. If he had a choice.

A distraction. Could he allow himself that? If only for one night.

"You forgot the other part," Jon told him friend, "Fighting or-. I know there are several men that want to improve their fighting skills. Learn the Westerosi fighting styles. I could teach them."

Tormund nodded, patting him on the shoulder, "Good."

Jon gave his friend a small smile before looking at Ghost, who looked up at him sheepishly.

"I know," Jon told him, ruffling his fur, "I wish she was here too, boy."

In the distance, covered by the darkness of the night, there hovered a winged shadow. A letter tied around his thick neck. His amber eyes focused on the snowy scene below.

And, in particular, one dark haired man and one white haired dog.


	7. Chapter 7

"It's been nearly a week!" Rhaegar exclaimed as he wrung his hands nervously, fretful energy bubbling in his veins like wildfire, "She's not woken up once, Kinvara. I can barely get her to eat or drink. She was already so thin when she came here, she's blatantly not been eating properly for a while. I know something isn't right and yet you expect me to just sit here and wait for Drogon. We need to do more and you know it! I won't just sit here and let her waste away…"

Kinvara sighed. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't just wait. Like she'd told him to. That wasn't Rhaegar's way. He had spent the whole of the past week by Daenerys's side. Feeding her, giving her water, holding her hand, reading stories to her, hugging her to his side whenever she had a nightmare. Yet, she still hadn't opened her eyes once since she'd been brought back to life in that terrible way.

Kinvara knew this could happen sometimes. That whilst the body could heal quickly, it could take the mind several weeks or even months to full heal. She didn't know how long that would take, she couldn't give her friend the reassurance that he deserved and it was tearing him apart.

"I'm sorry," Rhaegar said, "I'm not mad at you. I'm just… she has suffered. Daenerys had suffered and… I want to make it right."

"You have," Kinvara tried to assure him, "You sent Drogon to find this Jon Snow she talk about in her sleep. I trust he will find him. Have faith."

Rhaegar sighed, "I wish I could. R'hllor hasn't failed me yet but… I think she was tortured or imprisoned. Look at her, look at how small she is. I'm her brother, I can't just sit by and not avenge her death."

"Rhaegar!" Kinvara snapped, "You are not a vengeful man. You are not your father. I know you want to do right by her but you won't do that by going after whoever killed her the minute you can get that information out of her. I know you want justice for her but… not like that."

"I want her to survive," Rhaegar said, before slamming his hands down, "For goodness' sake! Have we not heard anything about Viserys? Has he really not learnt anything from the mother that bore us about the importance of family? Fire and blood- it was not about carnage. It was about Old Valyria, our home. The fire of the Doom and our dragons, and blood- that which binds us, that which makes us stronger. We were the only family to survive the Doom, we have a dragon, we are strong. And I will not let him abandon his sister like a coward…"

Kinvara rolled her eyes but didn't let her friend see. She hated it when he went off on one like this about symbolism and family history. Yes, Rhaegar had been bookish since birth and his mind preferred allegories and metaphors to straightforward phrases, and that was ok, some men were made like that. They were great poets and singers, much like Rhaegar had been before his fall at the Trident. But it unnerved her when he spoke like that, it made him sound too much like his father for her liking. She knew now that no madness lived in his bones, and that when he spoke like that it was nothing more than overzealous idealism, but it still riled her. It didn't do him any favours- still too many men saw him as a Targaryen first, and melancholy Rhaegar second.

Yet, she could forgive him being this way right now. Filled with worry and anger as much as he was. She had no siblings but she felt she could still understand on some level- Rhaegar was her brother in the priesthood and the closest she'd ever had to a brother besides. If he'd been there, lying still and unresponsive for little over a week she'd be besides herself too. And she knew on some level, that she'd likely be wishing for R'hllor to scorn the man who'd hurt him too.

"We will find him," Kinvara reassured him, "I'm sure he will have a good explanation. Or Daenerys will."

"It's been years since we've heard anything about him," Rhaegar said, "Ever since they were travelling to Vaes Dothrak. Then nothing. I fear he is gone. He was never all that strong. He wasn't sickly like the others but he did always clutch to mother's side. Always was overemotional. I could never imagine him fighting in battle or standing by father's side as he attended council meetings. I always feared for him. For both of them."

Rhaegar ran his hand over Daenerys's silver hair but she did not respond.

In sleep, she looked so peaceful. So delicate. She had been changed into a light blue nightdress and her hair was loose except a single braid which wound its way around crown of her head. She was completely relaxed, and free from her royal dress and many braids she looked like the young woman that she actually was, only a few years out of childhood. She looked carefree, despite the storm that was no doubt still racing in her mind.

Rhaegar took one of Daenerys's tiny hands in both of his larger ones.

"Dany, please," he began to beg, "Please wake up. Please."

Kinvara struggled to hold back tears. The begging was the worst.

"I will have them pray again tonight," Kinvara told him, "And I will fast and meditate on the fires again. But I doubt I will see much more than Drogon's flight."

Rhaegar nodded, tears glistening in his eyes, "Thank you, my friend."

Later that night, Kinvara knelt before the fires, her eyes closed, the light casting reddish dancing shadows on her closed eyelids as she spoke her prayer.

Daenerys. Please let her wake up, and soon, before she broke her brother's heart.

She was half-way through the third repetition of her prayer, when she heard the clunking noise on the roof and then a familiar scratching.

Smiling, she stood up quickly and made her way to the doors of the temple, flinging them wide open.

A dark haired man approached. He wore clothes better suited for the frozen north. He sported a long, dark beard and his face was pale and haggard.

The dragon beside him, scales as dark as the night that surrounded him, gave the priestess a triumphant grin.

"Jon Snow," Kinvara began, "We have been expecting you."


	8. Chapter 8

"What do you mean by 'she's alive again'?" Tyrion demanded, banging a fist against the sturdy wooden table.

Bran gave him a distant and contemplative look, "Daenerys Targaryen has been returned to the realm of the living."

Sansa wanted to roll her eyes at Bran's answer. Yes, of course, that damn Dragon Bitch had only gone and gotten herself resurrected! Sansa had suspected that would be the message Bran wanted to pass to her when she arrived in King's Landing. However, she didn't understand why Bran felt the need to be cryptic now. Now, it was just his small council surrounding him.

I don't know, Sansa thought despairingly, maybe he just gets a quick out of being as difficult as possible.

"You told us that the dragon was going to Volantis," Sansa recalled, "You mean to that someone in Volantis brought her back?"

Bran nodded, "Exactly."

Sansa shook her head in frustration, "If you knew this weeks ago… If you knew how this was going to play out, why did you not do something?"

"I can't warge a dragon," Bran answered simply.

"That's a pity," Bronn replied, "Could have saved us a lot of trouble."

"Not now Bronn," Tyrion cautioned him, "So she's alive, and in Volantis, yes? Does she plan to come to Westeros?"

"She cannot plan," Bran answered with a smile, "But yes, she will come back here again."

"Seven fucking hells!" Bronn yelled, rising from his seat, "And you knew! After I just shelled out thousands on rebuilding the city, you knew all along she was going to just come back here and burn it all to the ground again!"

"Bronn," Tyrion answered firmly, "Sit down and remember that you are addressing your king."

Bronn sat down, "Sorry, your Grace."

Bran nodded, "Your apology is accepted."

Sansa sighed, "When will she come back here? Do we have weeks, months, years, how long do we have to prepare for a siege?"

"There will not be a siege," Bran answered, "Not really, not in the way you imagine, sister. Right now, Daenerys is in the land of the living physically but her mind is in the between. She has been brought back to serve a purpose. To restore balance in the world, you might say. She has something to give to the world and I will ensure that the gift is accepted."

Sansa rubbed her eyes. She wished she'd never asked.

Tyrion frowned, "A gift, what kind of gift? More dragons?"

Bran smiled, "You might say that."

"Seven hells!" Bronn exclaimed, before pouring himself another cup of wine.

"You mean to say that there are more dragons?" Davos asked, "Or rather, that there will be? And they will return to Westeros with Daenerys?"

"Yes," Bran began, "I can see several dragons but I only know that two for definite will follow her to Westeros. One will serve as the vessel, the other will be the key. As for the other dragons they will be free to choose."

Sansa frowned, "What is it you want us to do, Bran?"

Her brother sighed, "We must arrange our pieces. We must ready ourselves for the battle to restore dark and light. I regret to inform you this, but Jon Snow- Aegon Targaryen- had abandoned his watch at the Wall. He has become a deserter. He was until three days ago with the Free Folk but now he has flown to Volantis. I am sorry."

"Jon?" Sansa asked, "He would never go to Daenerys. Not after everything she did. Not unless he felt he needed to finish the job."

"Jon?" Tyrion asked, "He flew there. On Daenerys's dragon."

Bran nodded, "Yes, and Daenerys must live. At least for now. Jon is where he needs to be now."

"With all due respect, your Grace," Davos began, "I don't think it is advisable to just leave this be. We should write to Jon and urge him to return to the wall. I know he doesn't intend to threaten you, your Grace, I know he loves you like a brother. Gods, he thought he was your brother until recently! But we should make him see that going to Daenerys like this does us all no favours. We are still in the early days of your reign. Our alliance with Dorne and the Iron Islands is fragile, if they learn that Daenerys is alive, and if it looks like Jon has gone to her side… Well, I once supported the idea of those two marrying and I could see many others doing the same."

"Not after she burnt down King's Landing," Tyrion said, "I don't think anyone would truthfully be able to defend that. No, as much as Dorne and the Iron Islands loved and supported Daenerys they would not stand by a ruthless queen, no matter who stood by her side."

"And what about Jon?" Sansa asked, "Daenerys is mad. He could be in danger!"

Bran nodded, "Perhaps. But I think he has bigger issues to be worrying about right now."

Sansa heard her heart thunder in her ears, "Bran, your Grace, could we have a moment to speak in private?"

Bran smiled, almost like he used to smile when he was not the three-eyed Raven, and nodded. The other members of the small council took their leave.

"We can't let him die," Sansa began, "I won't let it happen. If I have to I will send poisons or track down Arya and get her to come back to slay her. I won't let her hurt, Jon. Not after everything she put him through before, not after he was forced to kill her. He must be heartbroken, I won't have her toy with him again."

Bran placed a hand over her hands and Sansa only noticed then that she was shaking.

"You needn't worry," Bran replied as reassuringly as he could manage, "I will solve it. Light and dark will be restored to the world. We shall see."

"Bran," Sansa began, "I wish I knew more. I wish I could do more to help."

Bran sighed, "There is one thing."

"What?" Sansa asked.

"We need to find Arya."


	9. Chapter 9

Jon knew when Drogon landed that there was only one reason he would return to the north. The dragons had despised the north with a passion. It was too cold for them, they barely ate. They didn't fly as much as they did when they were at Dragonstone, no matter how much their mother tried to coax them.

_Drogon is the laziest of the lot of them, _she'd said, as she stroked the dark dragon's snout, _aren't you, my poor sweet thing?_

Jon smiled at the memory. Only Daenerys would call a twenty-foot, fire breathing monster a 'poor sweet thing'. Although, he'd have to be lying to himself if he said he wasn't happy to see the dragon.

He wasn't sure that Drogon had been happy to see him again, however. But that was understandable. Still, he had allowed him to fly on him all the way across the Narrow Sea and to the free cities. Although, Jon hadn't known where exactly they were headed.

_She is alive and she needs you. _

He'd known from the minute he'd seen Drogon that Dany was alive somehow. Drogon must have found a red priestess and got her brought back to life. Weren't there red priestesses in the east? In Asshai and Volantis…

Yes, he must be in Volantis! Dany had told him about how Tyrion had formed an alliance with a group of red priestesses to preserve her image and her rule when Drogon had taken her away from Meereen and subsequently allowed her to be abducted by the Dothraki.

Yes, this must be where he was now, he thought as he climbed down Drogon's wing, the red priestess looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know what to think, or how to feel.

Daenerys. She was alive again. Should he be happy? He certainly felt happy. He still loved her, despite everything. He still wanted to be with her. He still wanted to believe that there was a part of the old Dany there. The same part of her that had giggled when he'd tried to ride Rhaegal, that had teased him about keeping her warm. The same part of her that had been vulnerable and delicate as that day on the ship when he'd pledged his loyalty to her.

Yet, there was another part which seethed with rage. How could she just stand there and unashamedly defend the murder of innocent children? Children, little children?

Children, like the ones he had hoped to give her some day.

Did that not mean anything to her?

And he had to consider it from her perspective as well, as he tried to sort through his emotions. How would she feel? The last thing she'd seen was his face staring down at her, the last thing she had felt was his dagger lodged in her chest. She'd looked so betrayed, so shocked. Would she ever trust him again? Would she ever love him again?

Was it possible for a person to love or trust again after experiencing so much loss?

Rhaella,Viserys, Rhaego, Drogo, Irri, Barristan Selmy, Viserion, Jorah, Rhaegal, Missandei, Varys, Tyrion, him- all the times her heart had been shattered.

Was it all obvious in end? Why she would break like that?

Was there really any other way? Everyone she'd loved had died or betrayed her. Was it all just inevitable?

Or was it more that she'd felt justified? Like she had nothing to lose.

_I tried to make peace with Cersei. She used their innocence as a weapon against me. _Had she felt justified because, in some twisted way, she'd felt like she was protecting them? Because she'd felt that by sacrificing one generation she was protecting the next set of innocents from tyrants? Or was it really about her vulnerability- that she felt like nothing more than the innocent and vulnerable girl she'd been so many years ago, so alone and terrified, and at the mercy of those around? Was it her way of trying to brush those insecurities aside and trying to make herself untouchable and strong in the eyes of her enemies?

_Even when it broken your heart. _Had she really wanted to do this? Maybe she was denying to herself how much it hurt her to choose this path. So that she wouldn't let in the guilt and vulnerability that she felt. The weakness she felt, which was not really a weakness at all. It would explain why she seemed so muddled, so out of character, so far from the person she'd been before. Was she still in there? The girl he'd fallen in love with and still held on to. Heartbroken at the choices she'd felt forced to make.

_We can't hide behind small mercies…it's not easy to see something that's never been before…a good world…you do, you do, you've always known…_

_They don't get to choose._

Those words had broken him, he'd known then that she was truly lost.

And… and he'd let himself believe that she'd be lost forever.

Now, he wondered, if this was not some ploy on her part to protect herself from the pain she was feeling. To brush aside how vulnerable she'd become. How much she'd gone back to being the vulnerable and innocent girl who ran in fear from her brother's fists. And by extension, in some messed up way, to protect every person who'd ever felt like that…

Was she cruel, evil, mad? Or just in terrible pain?

_A Targaryen. Alone in the world it's a terrible thing…_

_Be with me. Build the new world with me. This is our reason._

_We do it together. We break the wheel together._

Yes, Dany, he thought, we will break the wheel together.


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you hear that, Dany?"Rhaegar asked his sleeping sister, "I think that might be Drogon."

He placed down the glass of honeyed milk that he'd been holding. She'd shown no interest in it at all. That had surprised him somewhat. Honeyed milk had been his and his brother's favourite drink when they'd been poorly, their mother would even go into the kitchens especially to make it for them. He had been able to coax Daenerys enough up until this point to get her to drink at least once a day, however over the past day she'd touched nothing and he'd have to be lying to himself if he didn't acknowledge the part of him that was terrified that she'd given up.

He stood up, smiling down at his sister, before making his way towards a small table adorned with a pewter jug, small metal bowl and cloth. Pouring out some of the water, he dampened the cloth and brought it back to his sister. Gently he washed her arms, shoulders and face, washing away the heat and dust of Volantis. If he'd had more time he would have asked Kinvara to help wash and braid her hair and he would have asked his friend to change her into something more befitting a queen. But he had only minutes and this would have to do for now.

Jon Snow.

He had gotten nothing more from Daenerys than a name but he knew that the man had to be important to her.

Viserys. Rhaegal. Drogon. Viserion. Missandei. Grey Worm. Jorah. Irri. Ser Barristan. Tyrion. And Jon Snow.

Those were the names she'd said in her sleep.

Truthfully, the last three surprised him the most. Whilst he was glad that his old friend had found her, he'd had no doubt that the Tyrion she referred to was none other than Tyrion Lannister, the brother of the Kingslayer.

Why was he haunting her dreams?

He could hear the creak of the doors. Kinvara's quiet voice and a firmer response.

"I want to see her," Jon Snow commanded.

Rhaegar could tell he was from the north. Winterfell, most likely. He'd always had a nack for accents, at least that's what Barristan had told him. There was familiarity there too- _her- _not my queen or her grace. Just her.

Could this be a lover? Rhaegar wondered, a feeling of brotherly overprotectiveness surging through him. He'd heard a rumour about the head of the Seven Sons having a dalliance with his sister and had hoped it wasn't true. Yes, she was a woman now, and yes, she was a queen and queens had to make alliances. Yes, she had been married twice. But the idea of his sister, his little sister, being so grown up like that made him feel uneasy.

"Right this way," Kinvara said.

Good, Rhaeger thought. He knew what north men could be like. Like drawing ice from a stone, his father had once said with a grin. There would be awkward conversations to come but keeping the lad from Daenerys would only make them harder.

Rhaegar watched as Jon Snow walked into the room. He was short and not as filled out as most men from Westeros but that wasn't what stood out most to him. Jon reminded him of _her_. His Lyanna. The same dark hair, the same grey eyes, pale complexion. Yes, he was from the North and from Winterfell. He even thought, perhaps, that the lad was some relation of the Starks.

Jon made his way to Daenerys's side before Rhaegar even had a chance to introduce himself. For that he was glad. He had turned away before the boy could really see him. He needed time to regain his composure.

Jon sat carefully on the side of her bed, holding one of her thin hands in both of his, his eyes scanning her body, taking in her delicate face, her soft wavy hair, her thin frame and most importantly the swell of her stomach. Rhaegar could hear his breath hitch as he noticed that.

Yes, this was Dany's lover, and the child she carried was Jon Snow's.

Seconds later the lad wept, great gushing tears, loud and unrelenting. He buried his face in her hair, dampening it, and nuzzling at her head and he placed gentle kisses against her crown.

"She is alive," Kinvara told him, "But not yet awake. We are hoping she will wake up soon. We have been wondering how she-."

Jon took in a deep, shaky sigh. Murmuring something under his breath.

"It's ok, lad," Rhaegar told him, turning so that Jon could see him clearly, "She's strong. I know she'll be ok. I know you love her, I know she is with your child. You'll be a family now."

Jon gave him a shocked look, standing up slowly, though Rhaegar wondered if he might faint. He noticed that Jon still held on tightly to Dany's hand.

"You," Jon began accusingly.

Rhaegar sighed, "I feared you might already know me. I can explain-."

"You are Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon said in a matter of fact tone. Not a question but a statement.

Rhaegar nodded, "Yes, and I can explain. About Lyanna Stark, I-."

"I know you never raped her," Jon interrupted, "I can't explain how but I know. I know you didn't kidnap her. But I know you abandoned your children, destroyed Westeros. I know everything. Or at least I did. Until now. How could you? How could you abandon everyone? How could you abandon your sister? How could you abandon your children? You were alive all this time but never told anyone! How could you abandon my mother? How could you abandon me?!"

Rhaegar felt his heart shudder.

"Aegon," Rhaegar said. He couldn't be, could he? He had believed the boy had died.

Jon nodded, "I prefer Jon Snow. Makes it easier to know which Aegon you're referring to."

"Jon," Rhaegar began, "I can explain. I never meant to abandon your mother or you. No, I didn't even mean to abandon Ellia either or your siblings. No, you were meant to grow up at King's Landing see. With your siblings and Viserys and Daenerys. We were all supposed to be happy."

"Happy?" Jon began, "You abandoned your wife for another woman who was promised to a different lord! I've heard the stories, she was in bed for six months, dying after he child was born and all you said, when she presented the babe to her was one more."

Rhaegar sighed, "It wasn't all I said to her, far from it. But yes, I knew there had to be another child. I also knew it would be cruel to let Ellia bare that child. I didn't intend it to be like that, I didn't intend to fall in love with your mother, but I couldn't help it. Yet Ellia understood, when I wept to her with shame about giving Lyanna that blue rose, when I begged her to forgive me, she just looked at me loving and told me she couldn't hate me. The heart wants what it wants. My great uncle Aemon once wrote to me and told me love is the death of duty. Seems rather fitting."

Jon Snow shuddered, "So she wanted you to elope with my mother?"

"Well, not quite entirely," Rhaegar began, "But there wasn't another way. Even the marriage too. I was sorry for that but Ellia assured me that it would be ok with Dorne. You see Targaryens, we marry brother to sister, brothers and sisters also. Dorne is not so strict in their ways either. You must have heard of Oberyn Martell and his lovers. Ellia was fine with the annulment, though if she'd been asked to comment about it in public, of course, she would have had to pretend it was a great shame, a great slight against Dorne. But did you ever wonder why you were born in Dorne? An odd choice for a traitor to have his wife bear his son, isn't it? Except there was an alliance forged and that protected you. I just needed time but I never got it-

"I knew my father had to die. I just wish he hadn't be slaughtered, put down like that. And I'll never forgive Tywin and his ilk for what they did to Ellia and my little Rhaenys and little Griff. Not a day goes by where I don't imagine you sitting by the hearth as I sing or read to you. Every day I look out of my bedroom window into the courtyard below, I see you, Viserys and Griff training with Ser Barristan. Rhaenys trying to get in on the action and Daenerys just sitting there, a pretty little thing. I wonder if there would have been dragons still…

"I know it was Ned Stark who came to rescue Lyanna. It's common enough knowledge. I hope he raised you well."

"Aye, he did," Jon Snow confirmed, "He was a true father to me. I truly wish I could say the same of you. I know you didn't mean to abandon us but you did."

Rhaegar sighed, "When Robert struck me down at the Trident, I thought it was the end. Why wouldn't I have thought that? It was a death blow. Well struck. That's the thing they never tell you in your final moments, how much it doesn't matter in the end, who's side you're on. We were enemies, yes. But we both loved your mother. That's why I yelled at him to stop, to wait, I wanted him to know just before he killed me, that I would never hurt Lyanna. I wanted him to protect her, to protect you. He could have loved you and imagine that! You being raised by your mother and her brother's best friend. So loved. I wanted him to know that was my dying wish. I wanted him to spare all of you- you, Griff, Rhaenys, Ellia- to keep you as his wards or send you to Dorne. I think you would like Dorne. But he struck me before those words could come out.

"Afterwards. I woke up here. It wasn't Kinvara that woke me up. No, there are few with the talent. I don't know who that man was. He wasn't Beric Dondarrion or any of the others I know of. Afterwards he drugged me. Something about the Lord of Light's needs. About needing to ensure that the One who was Promised- Azor Ahai- could bring the dawn. I seethed against the Lord of Light then. He was keeping me from my family, keeping me from you. I needed to go back to Westeros to fight, yet I couldn't even fight him. By the time I was allowed to wake, Lyanna was dead, Ellia was dead, Rhaenys and your little brother, my father, my mother. My brother and sister smuggled away to heaven knows where. I assumed you had died too. Kinvara had been the one to tell, she was just visiting, she had been in Westeros at the time. I was so broken I laid in bed for a year and a half eating and drinking barely enough to sustain me, just enough so I could keep myself alive and let myself suffer. I had failed all of you.

"Then Kinvara came back and she'd saved me. She told me the Lord of Light had brought me back for a reason and had shown me how to look into the flames to see that man who had brought me back, he knew the Lord of Light had backed Robert Baratheon. He knew that I wouldn't make a good King and neither would my father. He knew that there would be another set to come. He knew what he was doing was cruel, so cruel, but he was devout in his faith. He paid for it with his life. They found him hanging from the window frame by his bedsheets shortly after I'd awoken. I think he blamed himself for the death of my family."

Jon Snow sighed, "I'm sorry. But you must have heard about Daenerys, why didn't you try to find her and Viserys? Once you knew where they were."

Rhaegar sighed, "The first time I heard about Daenerys was when they told me that my mother had died on her birthing bed at Dragonstone. They'd smuggled them away, no one knew where to. My brother was a boy of eight, well protected, but nowhere near ready to rule. He had never been raised for it and I had hoped too that he'd never have need to rule. You might not believe it, given he sold Daenerys to the Dothraki, but he was actually a kind boy. He loved our mother dearly. He liked to play knights with me and he wanted to learn the lute so that he could accompany me when I went out to sing. Losing our mother must have hurt him greatly.

"For years, I heard whispers of where they were. Where they'd been moved to. Assassins and the like. I'm not a young man anymore, my son. I didn't ever believe that housewives sat sewing banners for us in secret or that men raised silent toasts to my family's health. I believed my sister and brother to be dead. The rumours were nothing more than rumours and we were gone.

"Until I saw her in the flames, heard about her marriage to Khal Drogo, the birth of the dragons. Then I knew. This was the child I had needed, the child I had dreamed about. The princess who was promised! I wanted to run from here, buy the first horse I could find and ride it all the way to Vaes Dothrak. I wanted to dare any man to stand in my way.

"But I knew if I did that they would turn from her. I was the eldest. What kind of gift would that be to her? She was a queen now. A mother of dragons. Kinvara convinced me to stay, said there would a time for us to reunite, once Dany had gained back the seven kingdoms. Oh, how I hated that! After all, what had happened that last time I'd left my family in Westeros and stayed here across the Narrow Sea? I wanted to be there so much, to lead her armies into battle, to be on her council. Yet, she grew stronger as her dragons grew. I heard of her travels- Qarth, Astapor, Yunkai, Meeren. I can't say I always agreed with her methods but I was proud of her. A breaker of chains, she'd done all of that and she was little out of childhood. And then there was me, the man who couldn't even protect his children and the women he loved.

"She turned Slaver's Bay into Dragon's Bay and then sailed for home. I felt so afraid for her. My little baby sister. She hadn't even been an idea in Rh'llor's mind when I'd died. But I had my faith, Jon, I saw her in the flames. She was so beautiful, so much like mother. The last I'd heard she had gone north, to fight in the war against the army of the dead. And she'd defeat them! Along with a man they'd called the King in the North. I guess they mean you. I am very grateful for all the help you gave her, Jon."

"Thank you," Jon said, although from the set of his shoulders Rhaegar could tell that he had a hard time taking that praise. Why?

"That was the last I'd heard," Rhaegar continued, with a heavy breath, "Until she arrived here. Dead. Did she win in King's Landing, Jon? What happened to her? And Viserys, dearest Lord, I wish he is still alive somehow, even if he's still cruel and nasty. I can bring him here, teach him to be a good man. It's been years since I last heard anything about him. I wonder how he took it, having to step aside for Daenerys. It must have a been hard. They call the Starks noble, and they are, but we were noble too, giving way to a younger sibling isn't normal for us. But I have no doubt he would have understood his place in all of this and made way for her as the Mother of Dragons."

Jon let out a heavy sigh, tears glistening in his eyes, "I'm so sorry. For all of it. Viserys. Khal Drogo killed him. He threatened Dany and- I wish he could have been a good man to her, good like he was when he was a boy. And, I'm so sorry, I, I didn't know that she-."

"Hush," Rhaegar said, placing a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder, as his son wept into the sleeve of his armour.

Viserys. He'd known, Rhaegar acknowledged with a heavy sigh, a part of him had always known but denial had been a nicer idea. It had been plausible, he thought, he had gone years without knowledge of his sibling's whereabouts being confirmed, and they had lived despite it all. Couldn't Viserys have done that again?

No, he couldn't. He was no dragon. If only he had been there to guide him, Rhaegar thought. He'd have to add him to the list of people he'd failed.

It explained the silence though. The Dothraki never talked of those who died dishonourably, he would have died far away from anyone who would have cared to carry the knowledge of his death to the red priests of Volantis. Even Rh'llor hadn't cared to show him visions of his brother. Dany was the dragon, the princess who was promised. Viserys had faded away.

"I never knew she was with child," Jon began.

"You wouldn't have known," Rhaegar admitted.

"She wasn't far along," Kinvara explained, "Maybe a month or two at most. I doubt she even knew. Woman show earlier the second time around but she was barely showing when I brought her back. The child is alive, Jon. But I won't say anything more unless Daenerys says that it is ok for me to say so."

Rhaegar noticed the look Kinvara gave him and although he was bubbling with excitement he knew to keep quiet.

"I wouldn't have, if I'd known," Jon continued, fat tears spilling down his cheeks, "If I'd known I would never have done that to her."

"You left her?" Rhaegar asked. That didn't seem the Stark way. Yes, Jon was his, he was a Targaryen but he had been raised a Stark. No wonder he has cowered away from his father's praise. Had he abandoned Dany, just like Rhaegar had abandoned his family? Was that why he struggled to look him in the eye?

Jon shook his head, "No, much worse."

Rhaegar eyes widened. No, he couldn't have…

Jon nodded, placing a hand over the top of Dany's stomach, "I was the one who killed her."


	11. Chapter 11

"What?" Jon's father asked in shock, his face creased in confusion, the colour entirely drained from it, "What do you mean you killed her?"

Jon took in a deep shaky breath, trying and failing to hold back sobs, "I never wanted to. I'm so sorry. I loved her.. I love her so much. I should have been there for her more- when Jorah and Missandei and Viserion and Rhaegal died. Varys told me he was concerned about her and I said… I said she shouldn't be alone. Yet, I knew she was in pain and I still pushed her away. If I hadn't done that, then she wouldn't have, wouldn't have…"

"Wouldn't have done what?" Rhaegar asked, trying his best to keep his voice steady but still speaking sternly.

Jon admired his self-control. If this had been Arya- if he'd been facing Gendry right now, if Gendry had done something like that. He had no doubt in his mind that his sword would be drawn and relation or not, blood would have been drawn.

"She…" Jon began, he didn't want his father to have to hear this but he had the right to know, "She burnt them. King's Landing. Not just Cersei. Not just the Red Keep. But the people, the common folk. She burnt them too. I don't know why. Really I don't. I have ideas but… she was never like that. It was always the evil ones who got burnt. The slavers, the torturers, not the innocents. Certainly, not children. They called her Mhysa, it means mother. But yet, she did it."

Rhaegar's eyes were full of sorrow as he placed his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Jon continued, "Tyrion. She sentenced him to death after she took the city. I went to see him. He said love is the death of duty, that duty is the death of love. He told me she wasn't going to stop, that she'd do the same thing to other cities and towns, because she felt justified. Because she thought she was in the right and she'd be unstoppable because of that conviction. He made it sound as if killing her would be merciful, he-."

Rhaegar held up a hand to halt him and Jon fell silent.

Jon looked over at Daenerys. She was still asleep, still unmoving. He held her hand and it felt cool to the touch. Not like death but he knew she was still far from being fully alive. The blankets creased around her swollen stomach and Jon wanted to reach out to touch it, yet he knew he had no right anymore to touch her like that. He watched as her chest rose and fell gently and slowly. He had killed her, nearly lost both of them. Would they still be lost him now? Both in death and in life.

Maybe that was what he deserved. He had been sent to the Night's Watch after all. Told he would hold no titles, have no wife and father no sons.

What made him think he was worthy of her anymore?

"I have never trusted Lannister words," Rhaegar said, "The Mountain was Tywin Lannister's man and he killed my Ellia, my Rhaenys and my Griff. But I didn't trust their words long before that. They have never had a shred of honour, they have always only ever wanted what was best for themselves. I'm so sorry that you and Daenerys got swept up in all of that. I guess he manipulated her into doing it, him and that Spider, Varys. She trusted them. I heard Tyrion was her hand, never liked that idea. Poor sweet sister, I wish I could have been there to warn you."

Jon watched as Rhaegar smoothed back a strand of his sister's hair before placing a delicate kiss to her forehead. He was so gentle with her, so brotherly. He thought that his father might be outraged at her, he'd worried that he'd destroy their bond, yet it seemed unbreakable. Watching them, Jon understood the that nothing Daenerys did would ever be wrong in Rhaegar's eyes. It concerned him, as much as he loved Dany, he knew that he could never agree with her on everything. Seven hells, they had spent all of their interactions in the early days at Dragonstone tearing at each other- not knowing whether to strike the other down where they stood or whether to rip each others' clothes off instead. He loved that she never conceded to him, never let him win easily. And he knew how terrible unquestioning loyalty could be. He was worried when he did not see a trace of anger in Rhaegar.

"I know what you think about the Lannisters," Jon began carefully, "But Tyrion was different. He didn't want me to hurt her, he just believed there was no other way. He loved her to and he believed in her, right up until then."

Rhaegar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He still manipulated you, Jon. I know you wouldn't have killed her if he hadn't. I can tell, from how it tears you apart. You love her too much. So much that even if it were merited, reasonable, you still wouldn't have been able to do it. I don't think Dany's a killer, not from what I've heard. Yet, I heard that she could be cruel, there were certainly times when I wanted to go to Meeren and give her a stern talking to. Imprisoning the masters and having her dragons roast and eat one of them- that was wrong. And I knew she could be passionate to. She delayed going to Westeros just because she'd chanced to hear that the people of Meeren and Astapor and Yunkai were suffering and she felt driven to help them. That passion, but with cruelty too, I guess it can cause a kind of madness. You told me, you had your own theories, I want to hear them."

Jon sighed, "Dany went through a lot, you and I both know that. I wondered… she told me that she thought Cersei intended to use the people's innocence against her, I thought maybe, that given she'd lost a lot of people in a very short period of time, she felt like that girl she used to be. Back when Viserys mistreated her. That she felt alone and vulnerable again, like the innocent girl she had been back then. I wondered if, doing that, showing that she wasn't afraid to sacrifice the innocents, was her way of showing the people who wanted to hurt her that she was untouchable. I don't think she wanted to do it- she told me that sometimes you have to do the hard thing, because you know it's the right thing to do, even if it breaks your heart. I think it was always about sacrifice, burning them, never about punishment or revenge.

"I think she was trying to trying to protect herself from the pain she felt, after losing all of them. She didn't want to lose anyone else. I don't think anyone would have doubted that she wouldn't have been able to survive that. She had stopped eating- I found out Varys had been poisoning her food at one point, but she'd always gone off her food whenever she was upset or worried. I think she was just scared to feel vulnerable again, and she's always seen herself in the people, and she saw how vulnerable the people were too, just like her. Maybe she thought she was liberating from that, sort of a mercy killing. I don't know… I can't make sense of it."

Rhaegar replied, "I think. Without hearing it from her, that we never will."

Jon shook his head, "No, we won't. Did she say anything, when you brought her back?"

Rhaegar shook his head, "Except for your name, no. She's said a few names in her sleep since. Viserys. Rhaegal. Drogon. Viserion. Missandei. Grey Worm. Jorah. Irri. Ser Barristan. Tyrion. Your name. I guess they are all the people she has loved. There is one thing though, when she woke up, well, it was unusual."

Jon frowned, in concern, "Unusual how?"

"Well, people are shocked when they wake up," Rhaegar began, "That's understandable. But she looked so pale, even more pale than in death. Then her breathing got so rapid, scarily fast. And she started screaming and clutching at her head as if she was trying to get something out of it. She was sobbing. I've seen someone being brought back before, and it's hard on them, I know that, but this was so much more… and she's Daenerys. She's so strong. I didn't think it would be easy for her but, for her to react like that. Especially the way she started pulling at her head and the screaming. It was like she was possessed by a demon. I don't understand. And then she fainted and she's been asleep ever since. It's been well over a week now. Kinvara says that the ritual only heals the body, and that the mind takes time. But I… I want to be wrong but I wonder if she even wants to wake up."

Jon sighed, "She would, if she knew she was with child. You don't understand how much that would mean to her, how much she wanted to be a mother again. Ever since Rhaego. Her first child, he was stillborn. A witch had cursed her, told her she'd never have children again, that what's she told me."

"And what did you say?" Rhaegar asked, curious.

"I asked her what made her so certain that the witch was a reliable source of information," Jon replied with a smile, earning one from his father.

"Father," Jon began experimentally, finding that the word was easier for him to say that he'd originally anticipated.

Rhaegar said, "Yes, son?"

Jon shook his head. He hoped he was wrong about this but yet the way his father had described it, he had to wonder.

"Dany once told me you liked to read, a lot," Jon began.

Rhaegar smiled, "They thought I'd be the next Baelor the Blessed. Thought I must have had a candle and set of books when I was still inside my mother. My father's Kingsguard despaired for years. Even Ser Barristan, he'd bring me little wooden soldier figurines, bring me weapons specially forged for me, he would spend hours telling me about the battles I'd win when I was grown and all the tourneys I'd joust in, all the honour I would bring- if I just spent a few hours each day training. Still, it had no effect on me. In the end it was a book I read, on the notion of fate, an old philosophy book discussing the idea of destiny and I was a young boy of six when I read it and it affected me so profoundly that I spent the whole night after meditating on it that, by the next morning I knew what my destiny was and knew that I needed to get down the training yard immediately after sunrise."

Jon smiled, "Have you ever heard of wargs? The Three Eyed Raven?"

Rhaegar nodded, "A few years ago, yes, although I read so many books that I doubt I can remember all the details. Why? Do you have a friend who's a warg?"

Jon nodded, "My cousin. Bran Stark. He's King of Westeros now. And the new Three Eyed Raven."

"Dear Gods," Rhaegar said in shock, "Such a responsibility."

Jon nodded, "Do you know if… if he could have known? Could have known that Dany would have…?"

Rhaegar sighed, "A normal warg wouldn't be able to know things like that. They can only go into the body and mind of an animal, and in very rare cases, a person. But the Three Eyed Raven- I remember the legend. He's supposed to know everything. I'm sorry to say it but I think he had to have known."

Jon took in a deep, angry breath, "He knew. He let it happen."

Rhaegar bit his lip, "Jon, if your cousin is the Three Eyed Raven now, well you should know that the entity in him is not the boy you grew up with. He's not Bran Stark anymore."

Jon nodded, "He told me as much himself. He also told me. He told me that he knew he had to come to King's Landing so that he could be king."

"Fate passes in strange ways," Rhaegar replied, his forehead creased in confusion.

"Do you think he let it happen?" Jon began, "Or do you think he made it happen?"

"Made it happen?" Rhaegar asked, perplexed.

"The screaming, the grabbing at her head," Jon began, "I want to be wrong…"

"What are you thinking?" Rhaegar asked, and Jon could tell he was bracing himself for the worst.

"I think she's trying to fight him but she can't," Jon began, "And that's why she's sleeping, because that's the only way she thinks she can control him. I think it was him, I think he made her do it.

"I think the Three Eyed Raven warged into Daenerys and made her burn down King's Landing, and I don't think he's finished with her yet."


	12. Chapter 12

It didn't seem possible. To actually feel too warm. Feeling too warm… how was that ever a thing?

Even stepping into a fire didn't feel this warm.

Yet now, she was on fire again, or so it seemed. Her whole body seemed alight and her head felt heavy and pounding.

She could sense it still. The whispers at the corners of her awareness. Was she awake now or was she in another dream? She didn't know if she could tell anymore.

Maybe this was what madness was like. Yet, she didn't think she was mad. Terrible things had happened yes, and she had wanted to do terrible things, and terrible, terrible things had occurred. But yet, she didn't feel mad, didn't think that her thoughts sounded mad…

But there was that whispering still there, in the corners of her awareness. Mad men heard voices, didn't they? Was that what she was doing now? Hearing voices?

She'd first heard the voices at the feast, telling her such awful things. They will never love you, he will never love you, Westeros isn't your home and never will be. She hadn't thought it was voices then, no, it still seemed like her. A dark part of her, yes, but it still seemed like those thoughts belonged to her…

Or did they?

She didn't know if she could tell anymore.

Then the voices were back when…when Missandei….telling her to kill everything and everyone…

The voices… or was that her? She had wanted revenge, she had wanted to follow through on her friend's dying wish, that had been her, right? She had wanted that.

When she was atop the walls of King's Landing, that had been her fulfilling those wishes, doing what she believed to be right. That was her. She had wanted that. It made sense- as cruel as it seemed, one sacrifice to ensure the happiness of future generations, and to secure her happiness too… so that no one would see… so that no one could tell…

So that no one could tell how small and afraid she really was without her advisers, or friends, or Jon.

Yes, that all made sense, in a warped way. That was what she'd wanted.

But the voices were there too, telling her what to do, how, and why… over and over again.

She had wanted to burn King's Landing, the voices had wanted that too.

Now she had no idea how much of her mind was her and how much belonged to the voices anymore.

Yes, this had to be madness, Daenerys thought to herself, maybe this was what my father had experienced. At least he didn't get a chance to kill an entire city of people. I've already failed in that. That's why I need to sleep, just stay asleep. I'm so sorry, Rhaegar, I wish I could have been the sister you always wanted, but I think it's better for everyone if I just sleep…

Soon it would be over, it had to be. How long had it been since her last proper meal? How many months? Soon she would be gone again for good.

They should have never brought me back, Daenerys thought, not after what I've done. What has been done- by the both of us, me and the voices. No, it would be better if I was gone.

Yet, she just couldn't go and it didn't feel like she could sleep either.

Daenerys could feel herself panicking, the heat around her searing, a feeling like an iron being thrust into her stomach.

Her eyes flew open and she pushed away the blankets with as much force as she could muster. Her eyes struggled to adjust to even the dull light- was this still her dream? She felt as if her head was spinning, the room and its ceiling bobbing up and down and fading in and out of view, her head was exploding with pain and she could feel her hands reaching for her hair again, pulling at the hair near her temples as if she could pull out the pain that way. Tears glistened in her eyes and she tried hard not to let a scream of pain rip through her.

This was worse, so much worse than Rhaego, and even then she'd thought she would die, just like her mother had…

Yet, was this even real? Did she even know what real was anymore? Had she even known originally? Back before the voices, she had seemed so certain of herself. Was that even justified? She had done terrible things back then, yet she'd felt they were done for the right reasons.

What was right anymore? What was right when even breathing felt like a moral wrong?

Yet she was still here and the breath in her lungs didn't seem to be leaving her although she knew on some level that she was hyperventilating. She'd have to deal with still being breathing, she'd have to make sense of that however she could because, well, that was her reality now it seemed, as much as she could understand reality.

A wave of dizziness flooded through her and her stomach lurched. She felt herself retching but only clear liquid came up, a bucket was placed next to her and she could feel herself being moved so that her face was placed against its rim just as another torrent of clear liquid left her body.

It was only when the nausea passed that she chanced a glance at the person who had placed the bucket there.

It wasn't Rhaegar, no. She didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. Her brother… there was so much that needed to be said by both of them and this wasn't the right time or the right way.

Granted, it still would have been preferable to this.

Dany's eyes flew open wide with terror and pain as she dragged herself as far across the bed and away from _him _as possible. Tears flooded from her eyes as fear ripped through her, images of her final moments invading her mind.

The feeling of the knife, it's sharp cold steel, just below her heart. The way the blood filled her mouth and nose, choking her. The way she felt so light and woozy and sleepy as the blood seeped from her organs and arteries and veins into the spaces in between.

"Get away from me!" Dany screamed at Jon, "You, murderer! Stay the hell away from me!"

"Dany," Jon began, not quite sure what to say, not sure whether to move close her.

Not sure, as per usual, of anything! Dany thought to herself. Her beloved Jon. A man who found himself incapable, in the last months, of saying other than 'you are my queen' or 'I don't want it'. She had grown up believing she would marry her brother, a man who'd turned out to know nothing about nothing, yet it seemed in her final moments she had given her heart to yet another Targaryen man who knew nothing!

"Dany? You don't get to call me that ever again!" Dany began, rage filling her every atom, she hadn't even felt this rage back when the bells had tolled, "Or maybe, yes, just maybe you can! Do you remember that time on the boat? When I came to, to see if you were ok, when I came to you like a weak little girl, almost sobbing my eyes out over the death of my son! Remember how I told you not to call me Dany, that my brother Viserys was the last one to call me by that name, and how I didn't want you to keep that kind of company. No, now you are more than deserving of that company that than ever! How dare you? How dare you just waltz back in here and act like I'm your beloved soulmate… like I'm the Joquil to your Florian, as if nothing ever took place. You betrayed me! You betrayed me! And yet, you dare to be here…"

Jon winced, "I deserve that. Daenerys, I didn't know. I wasn't aware of what was going on but now… Now I have to make things right."

"How could you ever make things right?" Dany fired back, shooting him a death glare which screamed 'Dracarys', "You never did anything in the past, no correction, you did. You told your cousin-sisters about your heritage and they used it to undermine me, their queen. You chose them over me. You can't ever make things right now. You killed me and you're here to finish the job, I can tell, and when you're done you're going to run back to Sansa, I just know it."

Jon sighed, "I'm not here to kill you, far from it. And Sansa, she can rot in seven hells for the mess she's played a part in creating. Yes, we all played our roles and we're all responsible for what we did or didn't do. But things would have been so much easier if she had put aside her pride simply to work with you.

"Aye, she might be my cousin but she swore an oath before the Godswood tree, a sacred oath that was never to be broken, and from that broken oath Varys decided to poison you and chose me over you, and I'll never forgive her for putting all that pressure on you when you had already lost so much. I don't want to run back to Sansa, I don't even know that I want to see her again. She destroyed us, she destroyed everything that could have been good and right. If no one else had been told, I would have just been the King in the North and you would have still had your advisers by you side. Aye, things would have been hard, you lost so much, but we could have been… we could have been happy, married even.

"Now, I'm back here. Not because I deserve to be. Not because I deserve your forgiveness. No, I don't deserve that, not after what I've done but.. because Drogon wanted me to be here. He thought it was important and knowing what I know now, I believe Drogon was right."

Dany raised an eyebrow, "You're here because my dragon wanted you here?"

Jon nodded, with a sad smile, "Aye, I know. I don't think he ever liked me much back then, and I certainly thought he was going to roast and eat me when I saw him flying north of the wall. But he came to get me and he brought me here, and I think that fact that I'm still alive might well mean something."

Dany frowned, with a heavy sigh, "I'm not even sure I should care what it all means. All I know is you've betrayed me, twice. First, when I asked you not tell your family about your parentage. Second, when you kissed me and promised to be with me before driving a dagger in my heart! Why should I trust you? I can't trust you, not if I'm being… not if I'm…"

Dany could feel tears stinging her eyes, "I should banish you immediately. I've banished men for a lot less. Or I should have you killed, burnt alive by Drogon. I know he thinks you're precious and special in some way but I know he'd never betray his mother's wishes. Yet… if I did that… well, it would be cruel to hurt your father, to make him suffer due to your actions. Rhaegar doesn't deserve that… you know he's alive right? I wonder what he thinks of all this. I wonder what he thinks of his son stabbing his little sister to death!"

"Dany, Daenerys," Jon began, with a shaky breath, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, and I know no apology is going to ever make up for what I've done to you. Tyrion convinced me it was the right thing to do, that you were going to burn down Winterfell, that you were going to kill my family, that you weren't going to stop until everyone I cared about what dead and gone. And I was sure that you were dead and gone too, already, that the Dany I loved had died with Missandei and Rhaegal. That you were no longer here. Now, I know how wrong I was, and I'm so sorry, I should never have let Tyrion get into my head. I should never have… I should never have killed you… never have betrayed you…."

Daenerys sighed, "Tyrion might have planted the seed in your mind but you were the one who drove the dagger into my chest. I tried to explain, I tried to tell you that it's not easy to see things changed so drastically, that it hurt, that it hurt me too to see everyone burnt like that, but it was necessary. A necessary evil, to prevent greater evils occurring in the future. I thought you understood that, I thought you could see that, when you were there. When you promised now and always. Then you threw me away, slaughtered me like some rabied dog that needed to be put down."

"That's the thing though Daenerys," Jon said, "I never understood. Not even since Dragonstone. What was this great evil you were preventing by burning everyone alive? Not just Cersei, I would have understood, if you'd ignored the bells and burnt down the Red Keep. It would have been terrible but I would have understood. But killing the people too, and the children. They could have been our children, Dany. Every child I saw, I thought of how they could have been our children. They were someone's children, someone likely loved them as much as we would have loved our children. So, please, I'm not being mocking here, please just explain to me what great evil you were preventing through burning them? I do want to understand. Maybe I was too rash before, no, I know I was. I should have taken more time to understand. But now we have that time again."

Dany breathed in a shaky breath, "It's not easy to explain. I needed Cersei to know, I needed anyone who would rise up against me to know that I wouldn't let them win. That they couldn't use the innocence of the people against me. That I… I wouldn't be weak. So that I could rule. I knew, if I showed my strength, then they wouldn't rise against me, the people would be afraid of me, and they'd never rise against me and everyone could live happily and peacefully without more battles. We would liberate them and they'd live happily forever and because of this sacrifice, it would prevent so much suffering in the future. I thought you understood that, that the people deserved to live in peace without years of bloodshed and that sometimes to achieve that you have to make sacrifices…"

Jon sighed, "The Dany I knew. The Dany I love. She would have never sacrificed the lives of innocents, the lives of children. No matter what. She wouldn't have cared what people thought of her, if they thought her weak. She didn't consider compassion or caring for the poor or the sick to be a sign a weakness. She saw it as a strength."

"My enemies didn't see it that way," Daenerys replied sorrowfully, "My enemies will never see it that way. They only see what they can exploit and they go for it."

"Daenerys," Jon replied, "You have one very large dragon and one very large army. No enemy would be stupid enough to go up against you with an arsenal like that. Least of all, when you have the love of the people too. You have defeated all of your enemies, any future uprisings, simply by holding the threat of Drogon over their heads and inspiring love in the people. You didn't need to… you could have still been you."

Dany's eyes glistened with tears, "I couldn't stop them, I couldn't stop them. They had taken everything, everyone was taking everything from me and I couldn't be loving to them, not after they did all of that. I had to fight back, don't you see? I had no other choice… I…. I don't know… I don't know anything any more…"

Daenerys buried her head on her hands. Oh, how it hurt! How much she wished she could tell him about the voices. But she couldn't trust him, could she? He had betrayed her, lied to her, that made him untrustworthy, but were his reasons wrong? Was it really a bad thing, what he did? She didn't know, she didn't know anything any more.

"Dany," Jon began gently, "I'm so sorry. I should I have been there for you- on Dragonstone. Varys told me you hadn't been eating or sleeping well. I said you shouldn't be left alone and then I… I let my feelings get in the way."

"You strung me along," Dany stated in a matter of fact tone, "You pretended to love me one minute and then you were disgusted with me the next."

Jon shook his head adamantly, "No Daenerys, I was never disgusted by you and I've always loved you, I still do now."

Dany shook her head, "No, you don't. As soon as you found I was your aunt you couldn't stand to be anywhere near me. You tried to be near me, but you just couldn't. So please, don't lie. You've lied to me so many times and I fell for it then, but I'm not falling for it anymore. I know you don't love me and I know you'll never love me again."

"That's not true!" Jon told her firmly, "Damn you! Of course, I'm still in love with you, even now, even despite everything you've done. Why the hell do you think I would have agreed to come here?"

Dany raised an eyebrow, "I thought you said it was because of Drogon?"

Jon rolled his eyes, before getting up and walking to the other side of the room, facing away from her.

She was right, Daenerys concluded, he might be in love with her still, but he was disgusted by her.

"We can't be like this," Jon said, "Not now. Not given… Did you know, Dany? Did you know about the baby?"

"What?" Daenerys began angrily, "If this is some sick game to you…"

She placed a hand over her stomach, noticing the bump there.

"Impossible," Dany said, her eyes wide with shock, "This should be impossible."

"Well, it isn't," Jon replied, "And we need to find some way to make things work enough so that we can both be in our child's life. I don't want our child to grow up seeing only animosity between us."

Dany rested her hand on her stomach.

A child, she had always wanted another child. Several children in fact. She had waited for so long. Now, now, the timing couldn't be any worse.

_You'll be a rubbish mother. You killed your first child. You killed Rhaego. You killed your two other children as well. Viserion and Rhaegal. They're dead because of your poor choices…_

The voices swarmed and spun around in her. Daenerys clutched as her temples, pulling at her hair again, her eyes tight shut against the pain. She would do anything to make them stop, anything…

"Dany…"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" she yelled, pulling out clumps of her hair, aware of a stickiness covering her hands. She must have drawn blood.

"Dany!" Jon yelled again and now his arms were around her, cradling her to his chest as she sobbed, "Father! Father, I need you!"

Daenerys was distantly aware of the sound of footsteps entering the room. Soon after she could see her brother and Kinvara.

Rhaegar, he looked so afraid, so troubled, as he reached to take her hand.

"Dany, my little dragon," he said, soothingly, "Everything's going to be ok, I promise."

Dany sobbed, "No, no, it's never going to be ok. I don't know anymore… I don't know if it was me or it wasn't me… I don't know if I did it or not… I don't know…"

Dany felt her eyes grow heavy with unshed tears and the pain shot through her innards again, earning a loud scream from her.

"Milk of the poppy?" Kinvara suggested.

"No, no, please," Dany yelled, "I don't want to sleep, I just want them gone, I want them gone, so that I know how to stop hurting everyone. So that I know if it's me or…"

Rhaegar's eyes grew wide in shock and he gave Jon a knowing look.

"Bran," Jon said, his voice heavy with anger, "Bran, is that you?"

"Greenseer!" Rhaegar yelled, "Raven, reveal yourself!"

"What? You don't surely mean to imply-" Kinvara began.

Dany felt her eyes roll back in her head, then foreign words came out of her mouth in a raspy but monotone voice,

"She is mine, she will be my queen of darkness. My queen of ice. I have claimed her for the long night."

Dany felt her eyes roll forward again and her breathing was rapid, adrenaline rushed through her and tears streamed down her face.

"What? What happened?" she asked in a scared voice.

"I think I was right," Jon began, and Dany frowned.

Rhaegar smiled sadly, squeezing his sister's hand, "It's ok, little sister. We'll figure this out, we all will. I bet there's some books here that can help."

Dany frowned, her eyes filling with even more tears, "Jon, please. Please just tell me the truth."

"I'm so so sorry," Jon said, placing his forehead again hers as his tears mingled with her, "I was so wrong. I should have know, I should have known something wasn't right, I should have known it wasn't you."

"Jon, I'm so confused, I…" Dany began, exasperated.

"You didn't burn down King's Landing," Jon began.

"What?" Dany began, "Yes, I did. You saw me. I burnt everything. I… I wanted to…"

"No, you didn't," Rhaegar said eagerly, "Not really. You were hurt, yes, and you probably wanted awful things to happen to the people who hurt you but you didn't really want to burn down King's Landing, maybe you imagined doing that, maybe it was a significant proportion of your thoughts. But you didn't really want to do it, you never were really going to go through with it…"

"It was Bran," Jon said, shaking his head, "The three eyed raven. Come on, Dany, think. Do you not find it strange that the one person who could see the future didn't say a thing? Didn't warn you? Didn't stop it from happening?"

"He," Dany replied, feeling violated, "He was in me? Controlling me?"

Jon nodded, "Yes, he warged you just now. And he warged into you at King's Landing too."

Dany shook her head, "No, he didn't, he couldn't have. I… I commanded Drogon to fly… I told him to fly…it was me. I wanted to do that. Yes, he was there too. But I wanted that."

Jon sighed, "Actually, I think you might be right."

Dany felt herself crumble. Now he understood, now he could see. Now he could see who she really was.

She hated it but she wouldn't lie to him.

"You did tell Drogon to fly," Jon said, "But only for the Red Keep. Yes, I remember now, I thought the course he was taking was strange. He looked like he was heading for the keep, but then suddenly… You told Drogon to go to the keep, that was you- and that makes sense. Cersei was in the keep, if she'd killed Arya or Bran… hell, what I let Sansa do to Ramsey, what I did to Ramsey for Rickon… I get it, I'll never blame you for that. But the others, I knew something was strange when Drogon veered off course, that wasn't you, that was the three-eyed raven."

Daenerys shook her head, "No, Jon. It had to be me. I'm not the innocent you think I am."

Jon sighed with a sad smile, "None of us are innocent. But you're good, you're a good person."

Dany shook her head, "No, I'm not. I still wanted people to suffer for the suffering they caused me."

Jon sighed, "I've wanted the same. I've let that happen too, or made it happen. My hands are covered in blood as well, Dany."

"You're a good person," Daenerys reassured him, "I… I know where I'm headed. Three-eyed raven or not, I know who I'm going to become."

Jon shook his head, brushing tears off her cheek, "No, no, you're stronger than that and I won't let him win. No matter what."

"What did he mean?" Dany began, "About 'She is mine, she will be my queen of darkness. My queen of ice. I have claimed her for the long night.' He's got to be talking about me, you know it Jon, I'm going to go into the darkness."

"Not on my watch," Jon replied, "We'll figure this out and you'll be rid of him forever and we'll raise our child together and I don't know, maybe even have more children, if you'd like. If I… can be forgiven, I know I probably don't deserve it…"

Dany smiled sadly, "I would like that. But it's going to take some time. You still lied and stabbed me and… I need some time to think… to figure it all out…"

Jon nodded, "That's fair."

Jon stood up, carefully placing her back on the pillows, "I should let you rest now."

He began to carefully move away, until Daenerys's hand caught his hand.

"Stay," she began, "Please. If you would like to… you can stay."

Jon smiled, before sitting next to her on the bed, his hand curled around hers.

"I missed you," Jon admitted, "So much."

Dany smiled, "I missed you too. I miss how close we used to be. I wish we could have stayed on that boat."

"Really?" Jon began, "If I recall you spent most of the time being seasick."

Dany shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jon laughed, "Of course not."

Dany let a hand drop to her stomach, "He can't hurt… can he?"

Jon shook his head, "I won't let anything bad happen to you or our child."

Dany smiled tiredly, "I'm glad Drogon brought you here."

"Me too," Jon replied, as Dany's eyelids grew heavy, "Now rest."

"But I already slept so much," Dany answered like a petulant child.

Jon laughed, "I know. But you'll still need your rest."

Dany wanted to protest but it wasn't much use, "Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Always," Jon promised.

Dany allowed herself to fall into a deep sleep and for once, in a very long time, she wasn't plagued by nightmares.


	13. Chapter 13

Arya could hardly recognised the city that her ship was shortly about to dock at, she hadn't imagined it to look so improved so soon.

When she had left, King's Landing had been little more than cinders and rubble but Arya was happy to see that the outer walls were beginning to take shape again, their beige stones looking fresher and brighter that the ones that had once stood there. There was a small market too, close to the harbour, and a bustle of people trading their wares under the scorching midday sun.

Whilst Arya had never liked King's Landing much, that had mostly been on account of the Lannisters. The city itself, now free of them, felt like somewhere Arya could learn to love. Not as much as she loved Winterfell, of course, that would always be home for her. Yet there were things about King's Landing that she liked- the tunnels, the secret doors, some of the memories- she had started her sword fighting lessons here with Syrio, her father watching her, smiling…

It could have been so great, Arya thought sadly. If Jon had just manned up and asked Daenerys to marry him, maybe she wouldn't have gone mad, he could have saved her from obliterating the city perhaps. And, Arya continued, maybe if I'd had more faith in her, more trust in her following the battle against the Night King and his army, maybe she wouldn't have been so quick to turn against everyone once she lost her friends.

Arya sighed to herself, all these maybes, yet nobody would ever know for certain. It didn't do well to dwell on these things. Yet, Arya still had regrets. She had spent all her life reading the stories of the Targaryen warrior women, Visenya, Rhaenys, and so on and their dragons. Daenerys had rode into Winterfell with her dragons like Visenya reincarnate, and although Arya had never had a chance to see Drogon up close, many had commented that he was Balerion reborn. All her life she had been idolising the Targaryen women, yet still that hadn't drawn her closer to Daenerys. Her fear of the unknown had halted her from being a good friend.

Now both Daenerys and Jon were lost to her. Daenerys was dead and Jon was banished to the wall. She might get to see Jon once or twice perhaps in her life but no more. Whether she believed he was right to kill Daenerys or not no longer mattered to her, she had never intended to lose him when she told him that she thought Daenerys would never stop, that Winterfell might be next. She was closest to Jon out of all of her siblings and it stung every day to know how little he would be in her life now.

It stung even more when she thought about the fantasies she'd allowed herself to imagine. Arya would never have considered herself sentimental but she couldn't deny that she'd had a fair few daydreams about her family, and Daenerys included in that family. Arya had spent a good few days imagining what it would be like to be an aunt, to read the Dance of Dragons to her young nieces and nephews, teaching them to fight too, attending great feasts at Winterfell alongside her brother and her sister-in-law, being so proud of them. She even let herself imagine being a close friend to Daenerys and Missandei. She had only had a few conversations with the girl from Narth but she seemed kind and what she'd told her of her home had fascinated Arya.

Now it was all gone, Arya thought at she climbed down from the ship to land of the solid ground of the harbour. She noticed the small congregation waiting for and smiled to herself before walking towards them and bending the knee, in front of her new king.

"Your Grace," Arya said a little uncertainly, she was roughly the same age as Bran and they had grown up as typical siblings. It was hard to look at someone as your king when no so long ago you were putting salt in their tea because they refused to play the Battle of the Trident with you.

"We don't need to worry about all of that, Arya," Bran replied, and Arya was surprised to hear some warmth there instead of the usual monotone. She rose quickly before rushing to her siblings' sides and hugging them tightly.

"I missed you," Arya said.

"We missed you, too," Sansa echoed.

Bran smiled, "I assume you received my letter."

Arya nodded, "You said there was something urgent, that you need my help with. I'm not sure how I could help, Bran, truthfully. If it's the Iron Islands or Dorne, I'm not a diplomat, just an assassin at best."

"I know," Bran said with a knowing smile, "And it's not Dorne or the Iron Islands that are causing us problems."

Sansa sighed, "It's Daenerys, she's back."

"Back?" Arya asked, frowning with confusion, "You mean, alive?"

Sansa nodded, "Unfortunately."

"How?" Arya asked, "And does Jon know? Has he gone to her? Is that why you need me? To persuade him to come back?"

"Something like that," Bran replied before turning to Sansa.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this here," Sansa said, "Maybe somewhere more private."

"There's no time," Bran replied, "Just tell her everything."

Arya frowned. What was it they wanted her to know? To do? Was Jon is danger? Surely it wouldn't look good if he'd deserted the Night's Watch. It would put an immense pressure on Sansa and Bran. They wouldn't want to be forced to kill him. Maybe that's why they needed her, to bring Jon back discretely. But from Daenerys- how would she manage the woman's madness and worse still, how would she persuade her love drunk brother, no, cousin, to return to the north without his queen?

"Daenerys is back," Sansa began, "Her dragon took her to Volantis where she was resurrected by a red priestess of the religion of the Lord of Light. She's been alive again for about two weeks now, although only awake for the past four days. As of yet she has no intention of returning to Westeros, although we have no doubt that she will return soon. Jon has abandoned his post with the Night's Watch- the dragon went to him and then took him to Volantis and to Daenerys. Bran- he couldn't get more than that, there's heavy magic there, makes it hard for him to get a good reading of the people there, well, the ones who've never been to the north at least."

Arya nodded, "You want me to bring Jon back, so you won't be forced to kill him. I understand. But it won't be easy. He went to her because he still loves her, he never wanted to kill her. I saw him right before he did it, he never wanted to, he did it to protect us. If he thinks he can get through to her, no matter how impossible that might be, he's going to stay there until he can. I'll try my hardest but I can't promise that it will have a happy ending."

"Arya," Sansa began, "We're not asking you to bring Jon back. Well, not just…"

"We need you to wait there, for a few months," Bran continued, "Earn their trust. There is someone you'll need to bring back with you, whether Jon wishes to come back to Westeros or not. And there is something you will need to do, just before you leave."

Sansa pulled back her cloak to reveal a small bundle. She then unwrapped the bundle to reveal a small bottle filled with a luminescent green liquid.

Arya frowned.

"Daggers would be too obvious," Sansa replied, "They would expect that of someone like you. Poison is more… subtle."

Arya's eyes grew wide, "You want me to poison Daenerys?"

Bran nodded, "Only when the time is right, only when she has done her duty and the Ice Queen is ready to take her place within this world."

"The Ice Queen?" Arya asked, "You're not making any sense! How will I know when the time is right? How can I even be sure this is the right thing to do? I'm beginning to wish I never came back here."

"You will know when the time is right," Bran replied reassuringly.

Sansa leaned in to hug her sister, "And you'll do it anyway. Because Jon was always your favourite out of all of us. And you'll do anything to protect him."


End file.
